


The Quiet One

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: What does Mayweather get up to? (04/17/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This is fluff. What else did you expect from me?  


* * *

"And another thing, she's damned lucky to have you, Mal." Trip frowned at the bottle of whisky.

I looked up from the Napoleonic cannon I was trying to make out of tin foil, bottle lids and three crisp packets. "Why so?"

"Well, think about it. Since you an' Hosh got together you've barely looked at another woman!"

I frowned. "Really?" Damn, the wheel just fell off.

"Trip's right!" Travis exclaimed. "Remember those gorgeous creatures on Xc—Xca—Xcatara?"

"Oooh, yeah," Trip smiled happily. "They were—" and he cupped his hands in front of his chest.

"And their mouths..." Travis said dreamily. "What they could do with their mouths..."

Trip glared at him. "What could they do with their mouths?"

Travis had had a few by then, or he would have cottoned on earlier. "Why, didn't they do it to you? I thought..."

Trip looked as dignified as possible. Hard when you were half-pissed and had a trail of crisps down your shirt. Oh dear, the shirt. The latest, and worst, in a long line of unbelievably bad shirts.

"—behaved like a perfect gentleman," Trip was saying.

"Suuure, Commander."

Shit. The other cannon wheel wouldn't stay on. "What's all that got to do with me and Hoshi?"

"Well, you barely looked at them. Even when they were dangling their hooters right in your face."

"Did they?"

"Did they what?"

"Dangle their—hooters, as you so elegantly put it—in my face"

Reminiscent smiles smirked their way across Trip & Travis's faces. "Yeah," they both said.

Trip was obviously inspired by the memory. "Gennlemen, I give you a toast. The Xcataran women and their danglin' hooters!"

Trip and Travis drank deeply and I racked my brain. Nope, no memory of any particularly outstanding hooters on the Xcatarans. But I remember Hoshi smiling at me over the fountain in the reception hall.

Trip reached for the bottle again. "Ya see, Mal, that's my point. Since you 'n' Hoshi have been an item you haven't noticed anyone else!"

"Like the Shians ..." Travis added, passing his glass over to Trip.

"Ah, the Shians ...legs up to here..."

"Not big hooters but just right in your hands..."

Trip looked outraged. "Howdja know that?"

"Well, how do you think, Commander?"

Trip, womaniser of the galaxy, shook his head. "The Shians too?" he asked sadly.

Travis smiled the smile of a satisfied man.

"Well, shi-it." It was said with deep feeling. Deep, deep feeling. "Didja notice the Shians, Mal?"

"Shians? Smallish, greenish, eight fingers, lovely planet?" That's where Hoshi got those silk pyjamas that were ...yes, well. Soppy smile off face and back to the cannon.

"Those eight fingers ...what they could do with those eight fingers."

"Enough about you and the Shians, Travis!"

"Well, excuuuse me, Commander!"

"Have another drink," I said hastily. The problem with being half sober when your companions were pissed was becoming all too apparent.

"Don' mind if ah do." Uh-oh, Trip's accent was becoming thicker than his normal slice of pecan pie.

Travis was obviously in a very pleasant world of his own. "Then there were the Yamentians ..."

"Yer didn't..." Trip said, with the air of a man pursuing a Forlorn Hope.

Travis smiled. Widely. And very happily.

Trip swore. "What about the Drifins?"

"Yep."

"An' the Lidards?"

"Sheez, Commander, even the Captain—"

Oh, yes, I remember the Captain after that particular first contact. He was so exhausted he fell asleep on the bridge, and he smiled for a week.

Trip looked more and more depressed.

It was obviously time to try and stop Travis, or Trip's fond belief that he was Chief Playboy would be shattered. Nobly, I gave up on the cannon and turned to the Playboy-in-waiting. "There must be some race we met in the last year that you haven't shagged."

Travis thought carefully for a long long time. Finally, "Nope."

" But we've had—" Trip paused to count "— thirty seven first contacts in the last six months alone!"

"Yep."

No wonder Travis smiled so much and never said anything. He was too tired.

"So you've had sex thirty-seven times in six months!"

"Nope."

Trip waved his hand in Travis' face. "But you said—"

"I didn't say I'd had first contact with only one alien once on each planet, Commander."

Trip opened and shut his mouth. And opened and shut his mouth. Then—"It's been eight months, six days and—" he checked his watch "—eleven hours. Not that I'm counting, mind."

Course not, we agreed, a little too hastily.

We sat, silent, and contemplated eight months, six days and eleven hours of going without. It was a bloody horrible thought. Poor bastard.

"Well," Trip said sadly. Then, "Well, Mal, as I was sayin' before I was so rudely INNERUPTED"—oh, poor Travis, that was right in his ear—"You haven't looked at any female since you an' Hoshi—since you ..." His voice stuttered to a halt.

"I'm the only one not getting any, aren't I?"

I tried, and failed, to think of a way to imply that I wasn't getting as much as I actually was.

Fortunately the doorbell went, and in came the love of my life, looking adorable in her yoga clothes. Oh, how that top rode up and revealed her perfect belly button ...

"Don' drool, Mal, it ain't pretty," Trip said sourly.

"Oh, poor Trip, been a bad day has it?" Hoshi smiled and blew him a kiss, then beckoned me out the door. Now why would I remember a single alien when every night I had Hoshi looking and sounding like that?

As I said my goodnights, I heard Travis again. "Maybe I should give you some hints, Commander."

And to this day, I couldn't tell if Travis was being genuinely helpful or genuinely teasing.

But I did notice that his smile didn't get obviously wider after every shore leave. And Trip, to the galaxy's great joy, didn't wear his lucky shirt anymore. And then, finally, one day Trip was smiling widely.

But that was another story.


End file.
